


for feelings unbound

by wardo_wedidit



Series: The Empath Verse [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Canon Compliant, Empath, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-28 09:52:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18206897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardo_wedidit/pseuds/wardo_wedidit
Summary: “You’re either very impatient or extremely sure of yourself,” he says, a little bit biting, because it’s all Patrick’s fault he’s off-kilter anyway. It doesn’t feel fair that Patrick gets to laugh at him when if Ray was doing this little interview, David would be just fine.“Threw you a bit of a change-up there, huh?” Patrick replies, quick, grinning so hard he’s practically glowing, and all David can think isyes,yes you fucking did.Or, everything is the same but David is an empath who can feel other people's emotions through touch.





	for feelings unbound

**Author's Note:**

> It's a miracle that this fic is not named after a lyric from "Crash Into Me." 
> 
> This is what happens when you're writing for class about Theo in _The Haunting of Hill House_ but can't stop thinking about David Rose. In all seriousness, everything is canon-compliant up through "The Roast." (I also present my dream version of "The Hike.") [\+ I have a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/123853743/playlist/6v9JOTYapd3zzOTCU3J72j?si=13X_zLZJT1GoIQhA-PZZsQ) because I am the worst.

“Well, that was a fun night,” David says, slightly anxious energy creeping out of him as he claps his hands against his thighs for emphasis. He can’t really help it. He feels like the air has been charged ever since they got into Patrick’s car—probably since Patrick asked him to dinner for his birthday, actually, but he’d known for sure when they’d stepped out of the cafe and the atmosphere had changed.

“Hey, let me give you a lift,” Patrick had said, with a kind of forced casualness that David recognizes as absolutely premeditated. He’d had to fight the happy smirk attempting to take over his face.

He’d thought about telling Patrick he doesn’t have to, but stopped himself. He’s slowly been realizing it doesn’t really matter anymore whether or not Stevie thinks this is a date, because more than anything, _he_ wants it to be a date. And he’s becoming increasingly convinced that Patrick does too.

So instead he’d said thank you, hushed, feeling the anticipation buzzing between them, and let Patrick take him home.

And now, Patrick is looking at him softly, his features low lit by the lights outside the motel and emanating a kind of anxious excitement. David can feel it flowing through him faintly, his blood thrumming with the way it matches his own.

“I’m really glad that I decided to invest in your business, David.”

It comes out so serious, and David should be serious to match him, but the night has just been too much and he kind of can’t stop smiling. He wants to burst the bubble, to make Patrick grin or laugh. He just loves the way Patrick’s whole body always gives into it, how the vibrations coming from him shudder with unexpected delight. David’s never been good at playing it straight, and Patrick is _so_ good at it, and sometimes there’s nothing David wants more than to make him break.

“That is a really… lovely thing to say,” he says, playing up every word, and he feels Patrick’s aura shift, everything else falling away for a moment as it turns mischievous, ready to play along. It’s one of David’s favorite things already, and that is probably way too much too fast.

“And I’m so glad you did, Patrick, because you really helped turn it into the success that it is,” Patrick prompts, gently mocking. And _there,_ this is exactly where David wants him—joking and slightly exasperated and beautiful.

“Mm! A bold claim,” he replies as he watches Patrick’s face melt back into that soft, honest expression. He nods, letting the moment breathe, and then reaches forward and kisses him.

He’s touched Patrick before, but never like this. In a way, he’s never touched anyone like this because the way Patrick _blooms_ underneath him is totally unique, and David can feel the anxiety and uncertainty from before melt away into pure relief.

Relief, that’s the main emotion, which is not what he expected. There’s a flush of thrill simmering up under it, whirring beneath his fingertips, and Patrick is kissing him back gently and David doesn’t even want to focus on what’s going on inside himself because he just wants to crawl into Patrick, burrow within his skin and ride out the waves with him.

He pulls back, taking a moment to smile slightly before ducking his head. He’s still looking at Patrick out of the corner of his eye, who looks frozen and in awe for a second before smiling delicately. It’s so tentative and precious, and not touching him in this moment is such a challenge. He can’t remember the last time he felt that way; that _not_ touching someone and feeling the emotional flow beneath them was a hardship.

“Thank you,” Patrick finally settles on, and David turns to look at him full-on, lips pressed together tight to avoid grinning like a maniac.

“For what?”

“Um—I’ve never done that before. With a guy. So,” he stutters, and this isn’t completely unexpected information but it is slightly surprising given the fondness and—well, longing (which unfortunately makes it sound like they’re in some kind of overwrought period drama, but it feels the most accurate)—that Patrick’s been broadcasting for weeks.

“Okay,” David stammers back, because he doesn’t know how to react to being _thanked_ for kissing someone. This isn’t in his playbook; it’s too nice, it’s too normal, it’s so utterly and completely Patrick that he doesn’t know how to breathe.

“Yeah. And, uh. I was getting a little scared that I was gonna let you—leave here, without us having done that, so. Thank you. For… um. Making that happen for us.” His face goes on a whole rollercoaster as he says it, so fucking open, and that’s one of the most intriguing but also scariest things about him: the way he makes David feel like he doesn’t even need this gift, or curse, or whatever it is. Because it may take a minute, but Patrick always tells him how he feels. One way or another.

David’s mouth moves speechlessly for a minute, nearly overwhelmed by the earnestness of it all but also stunned by Patrick’s bravery. “Well, um. Fortunately, I’m a very generous person,” he replies, unable to resist reaching for the joke, and it pays off as Patrick lets out a quiet laugh.

“Can we talk tomorrow?” Patrick asks after a moment, sounding hopeful and again, ever so sincere, but David finds it doesn’t needle him the same way this time. Does Patrick really think he would say no?

“Mhm. We can talk whenever you like,” he answers, quick, and then makes another self-deprecating comment about not being a morning person, which they both know has a little too much truth to it.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and starts to get out of the car, glad to see that Patrick’s face has righted itself into something teasing and flirtatious. He looks more comfortable and less out of his depth, and David lets out a breath. He tries not to look at him too much, and he is very careful not to touch him, because he can already feel the swell of elation flowing from him and he doesn’t want to investigate any closer. It feels too perfect, and so he chooses not to see if there’s any trepidation or regret bubbling deep down underneath.

“Goodnight, David,” he says, sounding clear and sure, and David can’t resist peeking in the window for one more look.

“Goodnight, Patrick,” he whispers back.

 

//

 

The first time David can remember it happening, he was seven years old.

He can’t even remember the circumstances, really. Only that he was pushed and he went down hard. The heels of his hands and his knees burned when they hit the ground, but it had felt like nothing compared to the feeling that went through this whole body him like a gut punch and seared into him. The sting of pure contempt that moved through him. The kid who pushed him had glared at him with a vicious sneer, and David had somehow made the connection. _He hates me,_ he thought, and he’d somehow known.

He’d only needed a bandage for the scrapes, but it didn’t soothe the inside. Panicking, he had scratched his skin so hard he bled, staining his starched private school shirt. The nurse had looked at him like he’d lost his mind but he needed to get it _out_ , the hatred wasn’t supposed to be inside him like this and he needed to be fixed.

Adelina had gone slightly hysterical at the sight and brought him to his mother immediately, which is how David knew it was bad, because that hardly ever happened. She had been mostly unconcerned at first, telling him not to be so dramatic as he begged her to go to the doctor, but then somewhere along the line she actually started listening, and her eyes went wide as the rest of her went very serious and quiet. He’s never really seen her that way before or since.

She shut the door and dug through her dresser drawer, giving him some leather gloves. “Listen to me,” she’d said, urgent, and David had gone very still. “From now on, you have to be very careful. You have to be very thoughtful about who touches you. Because some people will harm you, dear. They won’t understand it, no one will. But you must be very protective of it.”

It was the one and only time they had talked about it. He’d tried to bring it up again and she had acted like he was speaking nonsense. But he watched her, the way she declined to shake hands with fans, preferring a nod. The way that when their dad hugged him or Alexis, she would stand back slightly and clap her hands instead. He picked up ways to hold himself apart physically, and soon he learned if he was sharp enough with his words, people wouldn’t even try to get close in the first place.

 

//

 

He almost got to the point where he felt like he had a handle on it. He would still flinch away any time someone accidentally brushed their fingers against his, but he’d gotten pretty good at putting up walls that kept him from feeling like he’d been unexpectedly trampled on, on the inside and the outside. But then Alexis became old enough to do things on her own, and all that hard-earned practice went out the window.

He doesn’t know if it’s because they grew up together or if she just broadcasts her feelings more openly than other people, but he could always feel what she felt regardless of if she was touching him or not. It didn’t matter if she was sitting two feet away or if she was twelve time zones away. He always knew.

He would wake up in the middle of the night and feel her mind churning, knowing instinctively that she was in trouble. He will admit, people don’t give her enough credit. She was rarely outright scared or anxious, and she was very resourceful. But people generally had a lot of emotions could happening at once, he’d discovered, and more often than not she was burying those deeper ones down so she could concentrate on breaking out of a war lord’s hidden basement, or whatever it was this week.

Still, it didn’t help his brain at all. He can’t compartmentalize the way she can—maybe precisely because he’s so used to having his body invaded by other people’s feelings. He would wake up in the middle of the night gasping and try to call her. Sometimes she would answer and enlist him in getting help or sending a fake passport. Sometimes she wouldn’t answer, and he would have to wait to hear the cause after the fact.

She’d somehow always known that he had this ability, and she knew Mom had it too, without him ever having to tell her. The same way he would fly across the world at a moment’s notice to negotiate with a cult leader for her freedom, she has always been fiercely protective of him about it, and watches his expressions like a shark when they’re together, looking for anything out of place.

But the older they get, the less time they spend together, and the less she’s able to look out for him with it. He starts to test the boundaries of this thing inside him, quietly and alone, sometimes hurting himself in the process in ways he knows would infuriate her. He’s also left with all her highs and lows, but without her there to explain them, and it twists him inside and fills him with resentment. It gets to the point where they rarely cross paths, but when they do, he seethes at her selfishness. And at Mom’s distance, at Dad’s support and questions and attempts at understanding when he doesn’t know the first thing about what’s going on.

So he pulls away.

And the hardest thing is, he’s seen the way Mom can lean on Dad. The way she lets him touch her, the way she’ll even reach out when he’s never seen her do it with anyone else, and the way it lessens the load on her shoulders. Sometimes he thinks that if he could find someone to share it all with, fully, it might make him feel less insane.

 _They won’t understand it, no one will,_ Mom had said, and no matter what he feels in the daylight, this inevitably fills his mind at night and reminds him why isolation is best, in the end.

Because David doesn’t get to have people. They pass through him, they startle at his reaction, and then they move on.

 

//

 

He became so lonely in New York that he played with recklessness.

He’d taken it to an extreme, he can admit now. It became a type of self-medication—to compensate for the emptiness inside, he’d slept with anyone who expressed any interest. No matter what he thought of them or vice versa.

The thing about having sex with someone with his condition is that everything is amplified. So if the other person was fucking him because they hated him, David hated himself so much he wanted to burn alive from the inside. If they thought he was hot, he felt fucking irresistible. When they were fucking him and thinking of someone else, he wanted to disappear so badly it was hard to take.

But there was another component too, an intensity not unlike getting high. He still hasn’t figured out why it works that way—it’s not like he’s going to ask Mom—but he knows it does. It was the reason he got so addicted to it.

It was a different kind of place and a different crowd of people. Parties didn’t mean kegs and tailgates, the vibe was more toward cocaine and casual sex encounters. There were mornings he woke up and he couldn’t remember how many people he slept with or what their names were, only remembered the emotions they left him with and a hungover feeling in his gut. He hated waking up in his own bed sometimes, feeling shaky and anxious and undone. At least if he slept with someone he could wake up with their feelings tingling at his fingertips, instead of having to face his own.

 

//

 

From the second he arrived in Schitt’s Creek, he was on a detox. Pharmaceutical, sexual, and emotional. He couldn’t imagine a single person in this town he wanted to touch, let alone sleep with.

Mom started wearing gloves again after years away, but she could get away with anything, style-wise, and no one would question it. David gets weird looks wearing Rick Owens in this town, he can’t imagine what people would think if he started wearing gloves. So he adopts long sleeves instead, regardless of the weather, and goes for long pants and long socks and is constantly pulling the cuffs of his sleeves over his knuckles, trying to cover as much of his body as possible. He keeps his arms crossed. The more unapproachable and intimidating, the better.

And then there’s Stevie. Gorgeous, sharply funny, and as desperate for a friend as he is in this place. She feels like a lifeline, and he thinks he might be one for her too.

The first time, it had been slightly hazy because they’d both been high. Awkward and clumsy, for sure, but not as intense as he remembered it being, and he starts to think maybe this will be okay, maybe this is the answer. But the next morning, Stevie is rushing around and she says, “This is _humiliating_ for me,” and it stings just as much as if she’d touched him.

After the most painful dinner party of his life, they’ve both had a minute to breathe and he thinks they could try again. What’s the worst that could happen?

But he’d forgotten. It’s been a couple months and he completely forgot, how much it takes him over, and it scares him. It’s a different thing without the drugs and the pills and the orgies, when it’s just two people connecting.

He knew going into this that Stevie was a deep well, and even with their established friends with benefits rules there’s no escaping that. It’s almost piercing at times, being touched after the time away. He finds himself trembling when he’s alone, gritting his teeth through the aftershocks of experiencing someone else so fully, and it scares him. He doesn’t know how he ever did this all the time, how he didn’t fall apart.

But then, he guesses that’s never been his style. Fading away into a slip of nothing has always been much more his brand.

So he can’t hide the fact that he’s a little bit relieved when they stop. That doesn’t mean any of his opinions of her have changed; she’s still hilarious in a way more people should appreciate, she’s still fun, she’s still whip-smart and attractive. When he thinks he’s getting out for a split second, and of course he wants her to come—she’s all he has, when he’s really honest with himself.

But she has feelings for him. And he beats himself up for forgetting that was the whole problem in the first place. Everyone else has feelings, and David fills himself up with them, and then he lets it break him.

“It’s not like I didn’t think about what you said,” he tells her when he gets back, which is possibly the understatement of the year.

“Well,” she says, pausing, and looking at him with a face that is uncharacteristically kind. “We will just have to work through this, won’t we?” He doesn’t tell her, but he thinks she sort of… gets it, without him having to explain. Not all of it, obviously, because how could she know, but he thinks she senses how scared he is. How overwhelmed. She wouldn’t be this easy on him if she didn’t, and he’s so fucking grateful for her. And at the end of it all he feels kind of glad that it all happened, honestly, because he feels like they get each other better now.

 

//

 

“I think Mutt and I ended things,” Alexis says some time later. He sits and watches her talk, hears her voice shaking and thinks about how much she’s changed since they’ve been here. He’s never seen her this rattled, _ever_ , even after he picked her up from one of her ill-advised international tours when her life was at stake on and off throughout the whole thing.

“It’s just really weird because I’ve never felt anything, after a breakup. Like, _nothing._ Like I’ve been to _doctors_ about it,” she says, and he winces, because that is hard to take. He remembers being a teenager and praying so hard to anyone up there listening that he could just be normal, be unaware of other people’s emotions, and to maybe take his own down a few notches too, for good measure. Dreaming about how nice it would be to feel detached from all of it for once, just enough that could have some space to breathe.

But he’s looking at Alexis now and he doesn’t envy her. He’s proud of her, in fact, for looking at the situation head-on and letting herself feel it, letting the weight of it wash over her without running away. If there’s anyone who knows how difficult that is to do, it’s him.

“I think I need a hug or something,” she says, standing up, and David stutters and looks around the room, because he doesn’t know how it will go, how much it might hurt to touch someone who is feeling something so fresh and so new to them. But she must really be wounded, because she shoots him meaningful eyes and asks directly, “David, will you please give me a hug?” and he knows she wouldn’t ask that of him unless she really needed it.

So he stands and wraps his arms around her and she holds on tight, small little sobs fighting their way out of her. And he was right, it burns inside him, and there is a depth and an emptiness to it that forces him to close his eyes to try and ride through it. But the longer she clings to him, the more he can feel it leaving her, lifting off like a weight, and if this dumb, horribly inconvenient and downright traumatic ability can at least do that, then maybe it’s worth something. He squeezes her tighter and holds on.

 

//

 

Jake had been a lovely anomaly.

The first time he kisses David, David felt absolutely _nothing_ and it was glorious. He was expecting the thrum of anxiety or a twinge of curiosity, but there was nothing but a seductive, pleasant blankness he almost wasn’t sure he could trust, because he wasn’t sure it was real. And if it was real, it had to mean something, because he’s touched and kissed thousands of people, probably, and not one of them has ever broadcast just—vacancy, like that.

But the first time they sleep together he confirms it: Jake’s emotions are behind some kind of wall that David can’t penetrate. He fucking loves it. Can’t get enough over the next few weeks, and Jake’s not complaining, because Jake clearly has a high libido and David knows he’s a hot fuck. He loses track of the amount of times he begs Jake to touch him breathlessly, to put his hands on him when Jake’s inside him, wanting even _more_ , and Jake takes it all in stride. He feels like a kid who’s just discovered sex, in a way, because everything is so much simpler when you’re just tied up in the physical sensation of it all and not sorting through a tangled mess of your emotions and their emotions coursing through your body. He’s so jealous the rest of the world gets to have this all the time.

He’s not saying Jake is simple, by any stretch of the imagination. He’s nice, he’s straightforward. He’s creative in bed, ready to try anything. He’s not exactly trying to kiss every inch of David’s body and explore, but he takes direction well and is attentive in that sense. He’d described himself as an open-minded guy, and David finds that to be accurate. He’s easygoing and quietly confident in a way David’s never really seen, and David wonders if that’s the source of it. If he’s just always so sure of himself that there isn’t anything to broadcast.

It’s why he puts up with the ridiculousness of the situation for so long, really. He’s not exactly into the embarrassing mix-ups with Stevie and run-ins with his family. But he’s not about to give this up when he feels like a normal person for once in his life.

But then Jake suggests that they _all_... and it’s absolutely not going to happen, for so many reasons. He’s not going to open up that can of worms with Stevie, first of all, and second of all, it gives him flashbacks to so many relationship talks he’s had before that it kills the attraction instantly. He’s lived through that situation so many times—there’s a reason Alexis jokes about it—and it was always nauseating in a way that sleeping with two complete strangers never was. There’s nothing worse than sleeping with someone and feeling how much more interested they are in the other person, how they want you to go away or chill out or be someone else.

Still, he and Stevie extricate themselves pretty handily, he thinks. He’s slightly disappointed to see Jake go, but Stevie is obviously much more important, and the whole thing gives him hope that maybe he’s just choosing the wrong people. Maybe there’s a whole population out there that carry a certain gene that make them unaffected by what he has, and maybe that’s who he needs to find to be happy. Honestly, it’s worth a shot.

 

//

 

All of that goes to shit immediately when he shakes Patrick’s hand and feels fucking fireworks.

It’s not the normal way people say they feel fireworks. It’s not just butterflies in his stomach or excitement. He can’t even explain it. He’s never felt something so intense from a touch as casual as a handshake before, and he has no idea why it’s happening.

He tries to keep his cool throughout the appointment, but he fumbles every question Patrick asks him even though he’s had all of this down for weeks and repeated it to Stevie so often that she’s lost her mind on him more than once. But he’s distracted, he can’t help it, and it certainly doesn’t make things any easier that Patrick, a total stranger, is _teasing_ him and grinning at him like he’s charmed by David anyway, despite his ramblings.

“You’re either very impatient or extremely sure of yourself,” he says, a little bit biting, because it’s all Patrick’s fault he’s off-kilter anyway. It doesn’t feel fair that Patrick gets to laugh at him when if Ray was doing this little interview, David would be just fine.

“Threw you a bit of a change-up there, huh?” Patrick replies, quick, grinning so hard he’s practically glowing, and all David can think is _yes, yes you fucking did._

“It’s nice to meet you, David,” he says as David walks out the door, and he sounds like he means it, and David isn’t even sure he responds because the only thing he can really think is _what the fuck_.

 

//

 

Working with Patrick turns out to be constant exercise in what the fuck.

He slots himself into David’s life like a natural fit. He likes Alexis but doesn’t flirt with her, he can hold his own against Stevie in a conversation, and he’s forever teasing David in a way that makes him feel cared for and in on the joke rather than laughed at, even when Patrick is literally laughing at him.

He wears clean, crisp shirts with rolled up sleeves and always leaves the top two buttons undone, as well as jeans that are rather uninspired but do amazing things for his ass. He’s almost always in the color blue. David would love if he let his hair grow out just a little bit.

Alexis had said he was either newly married or gay, but David can’t figure him out. He doesn’t want to be making these assumptions, playing these games, but he doesn’t have a lot to go on otherwise. Patrick doesn’t really talk about his past, or his parents, or growing up. He discusses the store, he teases David, and he asks questions about life in Schitt’s Creek. His sister said without actually saying it that she thinks they’d be good for each other, but David can’t tell where the hell she’s getting that from. Yes, they get along, but there’s a professional distance there, and David doesn’t think it’s all because of him. Patrick is holding something back too.

David has mentally catalogued every time their fingers have brushed or they’ve bumped into each other and what he felt, even if it was briefer than brief, though he barely needs to. It’s not nearly as strong as it is with Alexis, but David can almost always feel a blurry, clouded aura around him reflecting his emotions. But the other reason is that Patrick is refreshingly straightforward about how he feels. With _almost_ everything. He’ll tell David if he’s frustrated, or if he thinks something is funny, or if he thinks David’s being ridiculous. He’s never met someone who wears their heart on their sleeve so clearly, and it’s honestly kind of a welcome change. David occasionally checks what he’s saying against his emotional temperature, and Patrick’s always been honest so far.

He doesn’t say what he feels or means for all the times David catches him looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but he also figures that it’s fair play, since he gets caught doing the same thing himself nearly as often.

“What do you think it means?” he asks Alexis one night. He’d told her everything when she asked, and her face had lit up the way it does when she gets good gossip, but she can also be a pretty good sounding board when she wants to be. “Why am I so tuned into him?”

She shrugs, continuing to file her nails, eyes gleaming with mischief. “It sounds like you’re obsessed with him, David,” she says, just to ride his nerves, and he can’t help but roll his eyes.

“I’m not _obsessed_ with him, he’s just, like—never putting any walls up.”

Then she looks at him meaningfully as her face turns serious, like he’s stupid. “It sounds like he’s _comfortable_ with you,” she says, nodding slowly to emphasize her point. “Like you make him _feel things_ and he’s not ashamed of it or trying to hide it.” She waits a beat before turning her attention back to her nails, and David flops back onto his bed despondently, because she always thinks she knows everything but she clearly doesn’t.

Stevie, on the other hand, doesn’t even wait for him to ask, just goes in with questions that make him slightly nervous. “I like this for you,” she says finally, mischievous look on her face.

“Like what? There’s nothing to like.”

“You seem flustered,” she says, and David gives up.

He starts to feel like if everyone else thinks they know so much, he’s just going to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t need to add any fuel to the fire. He’s just about abandoned his puzzling as they prep for the soft opening, because there are too many other things to worry about and he doesn’t have time to overanalyze Patrick. He takes the teasing for what it is, letting Patrick scold him lightly for taking juice out of the fridge and debate with him about the opening, allowing the smug satisfaction Patrick is radiating wash over him without thinking too much about it.

It hits him slightly differently the day they open. As Patrick flips the lights on, there’s satisfaction, yes, and teasing, like always, but there’s also this… openness. A generosity emanating from him, really, like he’s there to catch David. Which he should, because they’re business partners, but it also feels like more than that. It feels like Patrick going through David’s voicemails and filling out his incorporation papers for him when he barely knew him, like when he picked out a frame for a business license he wasn’t even involved in yet.

David can’t stop looking at him in small, sideways glances the whole day, and about half the time Patrick catches him and grins right back, fizzing softly with pure excitement. Part of it is the adrenaline, David’s sure, but it feels slightly like they’re speaking their own little language only the two of them know, and it’s a heady thing.

Still, he’s unprepared at the end of the night when Patrick congratulates him and steps forward to hug him. He opens his arms willingly, and when Patrick touches him everything kicks into gear, reminding David that what he’s getting from feeling him across the room is nothing but a pale imitation of the real thing. He’s almost bowled over with the force of it, as a bundle of happy exhaustion, gratification, and more than anything, _pride_ , make their way into his system.

Patrick is proud of him, of them, of this thing they’ve built together, dominant over everything else, and David feels unexpectedly emotional about it. It means a lot to him, and he surprises himself by wanting to stay in this moment, smiling secretly but easily as he smoothes a hand down Patrick’s back. He can’t think of the last time he touched someone so casually and felt what they felt and thought _please don’t let it end_ instead of feeling invaded.

The lights flicker and they untangle, and Patrick is pink high on his cheeks, and David is going to go home and dream about touching Patrick tonight. He can already tell.

 

//

 

The day after his birthday, David is nervous.

Despite what he’s said to Alexis that morning, he feels awkward on his way to the store, taking into account that he’d picked out one of his best outfits to set the tone for the day.

Patrick turns to look at him and says hi as he comes through the door, and it eases him a bit, because even without his abilities he can tell that Patrick is grinning wide, happy and excited to see him. David leans in to kiss him on the cheek, a casual hand on Patrick’s shoulder, and tries not to linger too much, just making a quick note of the buzz of enthusiasm under his skin.

Still, he can’t stop himself from asking about regrets, just in case. It’s force of habit, and he’d rather hear it from Patrick’s mouth than feel the emotion turn and sour under his touch. It’s happened to him before, and it is a uniquely uncomfortable experience.

Patrick says no about a thousand times though, again with that achingly genuine face, saying he feels like a weight’s been lifted. And David has to admit, he does look like a slightly different person. There’s an ease and a confidence to him that seems renewed today, and David finds it a little bit irresistible.

And then he sticks his foot in his mouth.

The problem is, he doesn’t want to admit that there’s currently a corpse rotting away at the motel. He wants to be, for lack of a better term, _sexy_ ; he wants Patrick to keep looking at him like he’s something desirable and maybe even a little bit awe-inspiring, like he had last night. He doesn’t need to remind him of his undesirable living situation, or dead bodies, for that matter, but he’s gone and fucked things up anyway. Because now Patrick is emitting all these other things—disappointment and fear and uneasiness, and David wants to just rewind this whole day, put on a different lucky outfit, and start over.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure he’s ready to quit on me,” he says to his mother, but of course she steamrolls into her dramatics anyway, and David gets caught up in it too because there is a _dead body_ involved and he doesn’t know how these things work, who does!

But apparently Patrick does—not dead bodies, but business law, and maybe… maybe his mom has actually fixed this situation? Accidentally? Because she leaves, shoplifting some skincare with her, and then they’re in the back with a kind of truce between them. David doesn’t know what to do with his hands, because Patrick’s energy is vaguely hopeful, so David can’t help edging closer as they talk, like a magnet.

“I’m sorry for assuming that you just wanted to stay at my house to… to sleep with me, or whatever,” Patrick tries, fully turning to look away from him. At least it’s not in a bad way; it’s almost like his brain can’t compute the idea of sex while looking directly at David without blushing, and David is absolutely here for that.

“No,” he replies, with a shaky, unconvincing laugh, as if the suggestion is ridiculous. “It was purely circumstantial,” and Patrick is laughing too, gentle. David can’t tell him how much he wants to touch him all over, to ride out every high and low of emotion inside him when he comes, how he wants to touch Patrick until he feels drunk and out of his mind with want. Even if he could, that’s not going slow, and Patrick wants to take everything at a reasonable pace.

“You know, when you kissed me, that felt like my first time,” Patrick says, with unshakeable honesty. “All the things you’re supposed to feel—I felt them. Last night.” His face is so open and vulnerable and his energy matches: there’s not an ounce of doubt there and David is so jealous of him for that. He simultaneously wishes he would stop talking, of course, because they’re standing very close and the heat of Patrick’s feelings are making him feel flustered.

But still. He’s impressed by the bravery.

So just for today, because Patrick didn’t run at the first sign of trouble and gave them a chance to uncross these wires, David returns the bravery with some of his own. “If we’re being honest, this is kind of like my first time, too.”

Patrick shoots him an intrigued face, and he immediately has to clarify. It’s just that Patrick just broadcasts his emotions so _loudly_ it makes him lose his train of thought and misspeak, sometimes. He tries again. “I mean, it’s not, I’ve kissed like a thousand people, but nobody that I… cared about, or… respected, or… thought was nice. So in a way, it’s like we’re both starting something—new.”

“Thank you, David,” Patrick says after a pause, and David has to roll his eyes slightly because there’s only so much genuine conversation and feeling he can take before it starts to feel like overload. Patrick seems to sense this, an edge of mischief creeping in, and makes a crack about how he thinks David’s a _good_ person, and okay, he knows by now that David pays extremely close attention to detail, so that was definitely intentional.

He leans in slow to kiss him, looking at David until he can’t anymore, arms around his middle. And there it is, that sensation again. Patrick kissing him is already intoxicating enough, but the way his feelings just sort of… _unfurl_ for him, it’s so new and gorgeous and so fucking addictive. David can feel amusement, and apology, and a bone-deep pleasure at finding themselves unexpectedly on the same page.

He lets Patrick hold him for a little bit longer, and for the first time, he thinks he gets what people mean when they say they’re savoring another person’s touch.

 

//

 

Patrick said he wanted to keep things slow, which is probably good for David in the long run, because he thinks he’s maybe starting to get hooked on Patrick.

This is all so new to him—he’s never been in a relationship where he wanted to touch someone _all the time_ like this; he’s not really been able to before. He’s in completely new waters now, and he can’t get enough.

“David,” Patrick pants against his skin when they’re in the stockroom during a lull one Friday afternoon. David’s hands are currently underneath his hastily-untucked button down, nails biting into Patrick’s lower back. He’s currently sucking a hickey into Patrick’s neck, just above his collar, shivering at the heat and thrill coursing through Patrick and into him. He feels like they could melt into one slow, molten thing, if he could just get his hands on more warmth, more skin—

 _“David,”_ Patrick says again, and an edge of anxiety sparks at David’s fingers and he pulls back suddenly.

He’s panting, so wrapped up in the giddiness and breathlessness of this that it takes him a second to catch his breath. “What’s wrong?” David asks, voice raw and rough. He’s still touching Patrick, can feel that it isn’t the end of the world, but still. It never feels good to be fooling around with someone and be getting _worry_.

Patrick looks at him with happy but pleading eyes. “It’s like, 12:30 on a weekday, we can’t be doing this here.” He still looks a little bit in awe, a little bit flattered, a little bit like he doesn’t _want_ to be responsible despite his words, and David can feel it all tangled up inside him.

“There’s a curtain,” David whines. “A curtain, and a bell on the door, and absolutely nowhere else to do this.” He’s still scratching his fingers slowly into Patrick’s skin, hungry for more of him, unable to stop himself.

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees, scrubbing a hand over his face, flushed and conflicted. “Remember when we said we were going to go slow?”

David groans at what he thinks is an admonition, disentangling himself after a beat and stepping back. “Yes,” he admits, nodding, short. “We did… we did say that.”

He doesn’t mean to put any pressure on Patrick, really. He gets it, how overwhelming it can be to be in a new place with someone like this. David, currently, is also completely overwhelmed by the same sensation, albeit for entirely different reasons.

He meets Patrick’s eyes, who is currently looking at him with his head slightly tilted, a little bit of pity and a little bit of amusement warring there. “I mean. We have been going slow for a few weeks,” he says, voice carefully blank, and oh my god, he’s going to kill him. David is going to _murder_ him if Patrick’s teasing him right now.

“Yes?”

“And… and maybe I’m ready to shift gears?” David freezes, utterly taken aback by this turn of events, but Patrick continues. “But I am absolutely not doing that here in the stockroom, that’s not just unprofessional, it’s impractical,” Patrick says, words coming out slightly rushed but determined, like he’s been thinking about them.

“Even—”

“Yes, David, even after we’ve closed,” Patrick says decisively, anticipating David’s protest before we can get the words out.

“So, wait. What are you saying?” he asks carefully, because he has to be sure, even as Patrick steps forward and puts his hands on David’s waist, pulling him in so that the space rapidly becomes closer between them.

“ _I_ am saying,” Patrick murmurs, so close and with fondness radiating from every inch of him, enough to give David goosebumps, “that maybe we should look into renting a room at the motel?”

There’s a wicked glint in his eye and David is honestly appalled at the very thought. He knows Patrick’s joking but no, absolutely not. “That is _not_ funny,” he replies, still letting Patrick reel him in, rucking his hands up underneath Patrick’s shirt again so he can feel the warmth flood through his body again, soft but with an edge this time, like Patrick’s smirk.

“I hear you could maybe get a good deal there,” he continues, and David opens his mouth to bite back but Patrick kisses him before he can get there.

It’s sweet at first, but deepens quickly, both of them clearly excited at the prospect of soon being able to touch each other somewhere they can be horizontal, instead of cramped against the only open wall in the stockroom. He slides a hand under Patrick’s thigh, hitching his leg up, and Patrick goes easily, breath catching in David’s mouth. He can tell Patrick’s not really used to being directed like this, and he can definitely tell Patrick likes it. He goes kind of loose and lazy at the sensation, groaning into the kiss, and god, it sounds so exquisite that David might lose his mind.

“ _Fuck_ ,” David breathes, emphatic as Patrick clings to his arms. “Fuck, Patrick, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” and he feels Patrick _light up_ inside at the words, which in turn surges through David like a drug. Patrick’s hips roll, seeking friction and grinding against David’s jeans, desperate and needy and instinctual.

Honestly, anyone in the world could have guessed David loves compliments in sexual situations, but the discovery that his boyfriend does too delights him more than it probably should. He wonders idly how far it reaches, if it could possibly extend into full praise kink territory.

“God,” he groans, biting at Patrick’s lip, before trailing kisses along the line of his neck. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go about the rest of my day now that I’m thinking about that.”

“Uh-huh,” Patrick manages in agreement as he fumbles underneath David’s sweater, his touch hot and greedy but also soothing from the way he kind of _sighs_ inside, blissed out and adorably content to get his hands on skin. “I’m not saying like, today, or tomorrow even,” he gets out between shaky breaths and slow, purposeful kisses. “I’m just saying, the next time the opportunity presents itself naturally, we should take it.”

“Mm,” David hums in agreement, and he doesn’t want to be glib or dismissive but it’s hard for him to think like this, when all the touch has turned his brain and his body into _Patrick Patrick Patrick_ , all consuming.

Patrick’s hands settle on David’s hips above his jeans, which is kind of a sensitive area for him normally, but he can’t even work up the embarrassment over it when they’re making Patrick beam out nothing short of complete pleasure and satisfaction. “God, I can’t wait to get you naked,” he murmurs in his ear, and a shot goes through David’s body at the thought.

He can’t take Patrick talking anymore; if he says anything else like that he’s sure he’s going to combust. He gets a hand on Patrick’s cheek, turns his face so David can kiss him full-on, lazy but heated until Patrick’s fucking him with his tongue while everything else is happening and it feels like they’re building, chasing, so incredibly close—

And just like that, the bell on the door chimes, and after some rushed smoothing and straightening, there is Stevie, and _there_ is a solution.

 

//

 

David had been slightly suspicious of Stevie’s offer from the start, but when Jake shows up, everything makes perfect sense. David finds it humorous, honestly, but he is slightly worried about how Patrick’s face kind of shuts down the more information he gets, and he has to find a way to swing this night back around.

If he could be totally honest, he’d tell him about Jake’s ever-present blankness and how much he’d wanted that, once. But now, after Jake kisses him, he finds himself immediately reaching back for Patrick. The silence had just felt… empty, this time. Like a vacuum. And he’d take Patrick’s warmth and depth and feeling over that any day.

But he doesn’t have the words for all of that, and Patrick shrugs off his touch anyway. Now David doesn’t know what to do with his hands, because he hadn’t realized how used to touching Patrick he’d gotten until now. He settles for pouring them drinks and explaining the whole clusterfuck of a situation with Stevie, though Patrick is still broadcasting waves of anxiety and uncertainty, and something harder to identify, something like… inadequacy? And that’s the last thing David wants.

“I’m not upset,” he says at one point, sounding slightly hysterical even to his own ears, but Patrick had kind of just asked if he still had a crush on Jake? Which, if he really believes that, then what does he think David’s doing here? But there’s something fragile and a little bit hurt in Patrick’s face, underneath the ever-present teasing, and David will do anything to make it go away. “I don’t want _any_ of _that_ ,” he says, and he doubts he’s ever meant something more.

It shocks the hell out of him, really, because when he’d been with Jake he’d felt so happy to be normal, but being with Patrick makes him feel more than that. With Patrick he feels right, like he was always meant to be this way and it isn’t an inconvenience or a curse. It almost feels like a gift.

“I knew you had a rich dating history, David, I just didn’t expect to be greeted by the presence of two of your exes tonight,” Patrick admits, sounding slightly more like himself now.

“Funny thing, neither did I,” he replies, and something softens on Patrick’s face, and there, he’s back. He gets a hand on the back of David’s neck and kisses him, and then David’s laughing into his mouth and he feels so _light_. He’d never felt this light with Jake, that’s for damn sure.

It is clear to him that Patrick is bursting with affection, want, but also a whole lot of nerves, swelling in him like a nauseating roll. He feels it heighten slightly as he presses Patrick back into the mattress, both of them on their sides turned to face each other, like parentheses. Patrick’s hands hesitate at the edge of David’s sweater, breath catching in David’s mouth.

David pulls back slightly. “Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs, and Patrick nods, looking slightly lost at sea, like he doesn’t know where to start.

“Can I?” he asks, his voice breathless, and David nods back, insistent.

“You can do whatever you want,” he replies, sounding low and rough even to his own ears, and they haven’t even started yet. He has absolutely no chance here.

An ache of desire courses through Patrick at those words, and he works his hands under David’s sweater and pulls it over his head. He pulls his own off after that, and they’re both in plain white t-shirts, but it feels so much headier than that, so much more intimate. Patrick’s breathing changes, getting faster, and he runs a hand up David’s arm to his shoulder, groaning softly into David’s mouth.

“It’s unfair, how many clothes you always wear,” he mumbles, and David flushes. On one level, he knows that Patrick sees what he wears on a day to day basis, but hearing him say out loud that he notices these things feels slightly different.

“You’re one to talk,” David says back, tugging at Patrick’s t-shirt and working it up and away. Patrick is breathing heavy, flushing even though they haven’t done anything more than make out at this point.

“I want—” he tries, cutting himself off before he just goes for it, takes David’s shirt off too, and David braces himself against his self-consciousness. Patrick just looks at him for a minute, eyes drinking him in and David almost can’t take it, is about to say something dumb about not having gotten a wax since moving here, but Patrick speaks before he can. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes, low and genuine and clearly turned on, and David sighs, deep, and pulls him in to kiss him hungrily.

He feels almost dizzy with all of it. He’s never fooled around with someone so attracted to him, so fucking turned on, and it’s a whole other thing. He feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest with Patrick’s trembling hands on him, stuttering at the waist of David’s jeans, and it’s all he can do to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe. He usually tries to be the one to take off his own pants in these situations, because removing skinny jeans can be unflattering, but he’s too overcome by the entirety of it all to insist on it tonight.

And then he’s in his underwear, and Patrick is kissing his way down David’s chest and feeling him up with one hand over his designer boxer-briefs. David throws his head back against the pillows, any friction welcome, biting down hard on his lip to keep from making some very embarrassing sounds. Patrick works his way back up, kissing David’s neck and biting there lightly and David gasps, but Patrick is _shaking_ even harder now, a bundle full of nerves, and this isn’t how this was supposed to go. He wants so badly, but he’s also way too in his head, spinning out, and it’s physically hurting David he’s feeling so much.

“Wait—stop,” he chokes out, and Patrick freezes, eyes going wide.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, and David’s heart nearly breaks.

“No, just…” David tries, but he can’t explain, there’s no way he can and he knows it. “Let’s just… let me,” he tries, knowing it’s not an explanation but relieved that Patrick rolls with it anyway.

David reverses their positions so that he’s the one kissing his way down Patrick’s chest, unbuttoning his jeans and helping him slide them off. He nuzzles against the inside of Patrick’s thighs, biting teasingly over his hipbone, and Patrick feels languid and relaxed and ready for him after a little bit of teasing. David dips his thumbs under the waistband. Even Patrick’s cotton boxer-briefs are blue, and David chuckles slightly at the sight.

“What?” Patrick asks between heavy breaths, lifting his head so he can see David better.

“Nothing,” David says, smirking. “Put your hands in my hair.”

Patrick grins and does as he’s told, looking pleased to be following instructions, and the thought goes right to David’s cock. He slips his underwear off, freeing Patrick’s dick, and David takes a second to admire.

 _”David,”_ Patrick gasps, needy, and David is already salivating, wanting so much. It feels like it’s been so long. He takes him into his mouth.

Patrick’s hips jump off the bed, and David moves with him until Patrick regains control of his body again, taking a gentle hold of his hips. He works in long, thorough pulls, building a rhythm until he can feel Patrick is close. Then he takes him _deep_ , in one confident motion, thrilling inside because he knows he’s fucking good at this, knows Patrick is loving it by the way his whole body tenses and he goes even more speechless.

“David,” he pants again, urgent hand on David’s shoulder to warn him, so David pulls back a little and uses his fingers to graze lightly over his balls to tip him over the edge, and just like that, Patrick comes.

David takes it, swallowing like a pro, and then starts to pull off slowly, almost regretfully. Patrick has one arm thrown over his eyes but is peeking out at David from underneath it, chest heaving. David pauses with his lips still around the tip of Patrick’s dick, sweet and soft, like he’s kissing it, and Patrick shudders visibly before David lets it slip from his mouth with a pop.

He climbs back up the bed, lying down next to Patrick, who isn’t broadcasting anything but bone-deep satisfaction now, all nervousness gone. David can’t stop smiling, thinking about the way Patrick couldn’t stop watching him down there, like he couldn’t get enough of the image of David’s head between his legs.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs, and David laughs slightly. He waits for Patrick to recover himself, stroking himself absently as he does, because seeing Patrick so blown apart like this is really doing it for him. Patrick is never anything less than fully put together, and seeing him otherwise feels just as intimate as the rest of it, if not more.

He comes back to himself slowly, taking a minute or two before he registers David’s shallow breathing, the way he’s teasing himself to keep from getting too close too soon. David’s already wet—it’s a whole thing, and most of the time it’s slightly embarrassing, but this time he’s too turned on to be embarrassed. It’s _Patrick_ , and he wants him so bad he could cry. Patrick looks transfixed, unable to stop looking at David’s hand on his own dick, swallowing hard in his throat.

“Please let me, can I, David…” he stutters, and David just nods, breath hitching as he thumbs over the head. Patrick wraps his fingers around him slowly, eyes half-lidded and desperate, whimpering at the feel of David in his hand. David moans slightly, because this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, Patrick so incredibly turned on just to give him a fucking handjob.

“You feel so good,” Patrick says already, voice shaking as he moves his hand experimentally, and David has to curse under his breath because _he’s_ the one who should be saying that to Patrick, not the other way around. He can feel the swell of awe and heat inside him, as well as a slight edge of surprise at how much he likes this already. “God, you feel—”

“Patrick, please,” he manages, because he needs him to move, and Patrick thumbs slowly over the head of David’s dick before stroking him more purposefully, building at a steady pace, and David feels tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He dips his head onto Patrick’s collarbone so he doesn’t see.

“I want you to fuck me sometime,” Patrick murmurs into his ear, and David keens at the words. He wasn’t expecting Patrick to be this… articulate. “Your cock would feel so good inside me, David.”

“I want that,” David gasps out as Patrick tightens his grip. “You have no idea—how much I want that—”

“I think about it,” Patrick admits, his voice so close and the emotion pouring out of him so grateful, so honest, so turned on. “I think about you inside me, filling me up, I want it so bad, David,” he says, voice cracking, and he twists his hand just right and David comes with a surprised moan, spilling between them.

He steadies a hand on Patrick’s shoulder as he comes down, breathing hard, wincing slightly at the mess between him. But Patrick, always full of surprises, raises his hand slowly and pops a finger into his mouth curiously, and David’s jaw drops as he sucks his come off, mouth sweet and tight and teasing. He smirks at David, who covers his face and groans. “You are _evil_ ,” he says, and Patrick laughs.

After a moment, he rises and finds a washcloth to clean them up, face turning red when he sees Patrick naked in Stevie’s bed. God, he owes her for this one, doesn’t he? He lies back down next to him, snuggling into his side.

Patrick is pure light inside now, all teasing and brightness and satisfaction. He kisses the top of David’s head, which is so silly and so sweet all at once. “Think it was worth the buildup?” he asks, and David looks up at him like he’s insane.

“Obviously,” he replies, noting the way Patrick goes pink and pleased at the word. “Though I could have used some warning about you and the dirty talk.”

The pink morphs closer to scarlet, now. “I’ve never… I wasn’t ever that verbal in bed, before,” he says, like it’s just now occurring to him. “It just felt right.”

“Patrick,” he says, trying for patient but not quite ending up there. David rolls over onto his stomach so he can see his face fully. “You told me you wanted to me to _fuck_ you, that you wanted me to fill you up.”

He watches Patrick swallow hard, almost shy now. “Yes.”

“Just how long were you planning on holding onto that? Or was it always part of your plan to spring it on me and make me—”

“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about,” he says, words slightly defensive but his face so open, so full of affection.

David narrows his eyes at him, lying back down. “Fine, but I’m just saying. I want to be kept in the loop with things you’re—thinking.” he says, feeling slightly possessive for no good reason.

Patrick runs a hand through David’s hair and smiles, rolling his eyes happily. “Okay, I promise to tell you all the ways I think about you touching me.”

David smiles, little and small and private. “I know you’re being sarcastic, but that actually works extremely well for me. But not while we’re at work, because that would be indecent,” he amends, which does startle a laugh out of Patrick.

Patrick leans forward to kiss him, and all the emotions swirling inside him—contentment, relief, and maybe a little bit of reverence—swell into David, filling him up and warming him from the inside out.

 

//

 

They go out to a bar a few weeks later, an impulse idea after a long work week. Really, Alexis is the one to blame; she’d practically _begged_ for a night out with company when she stopped by the store earlier in the day.

“Puh- _lease_ , David? I swear to god, every Friday you spend the night at Patrick’s getting all cuddly and gross—”

“Oh my god, he lives with _Ray_ , nothing gross is happening—”

“Meanwhile I’m like, having the same old dinner with Mom and Dad and then working on my public relations stuff all night long and even a girl boss needs some fun sometimes!” she says, gesturing wildly, hair flying dramatically all over the place. David can tell she’s about two minutes away from an assertive foot stomp.

“So go beg Twyla. Or Jocelyn. Or literally anyone else,” he replies. It’s not a totally unattractive concept, really, but the truth is, he doesn’t get to touch Patrick all that much in a dingy bar on the outskirts of town. Not that he gets to all that much when he spends the night at Patrick’s, either. The walls are thin and Ray’s not great at boundaries.

But they do sleep all wound around each other, and even unconscious David can feel the happiness and pure content radiating out of Patrick.

He’s never slept better.

Alexis gets a smug look, like she has a win up her sleeve. “So, funny thing about that. I invited Stevie and she’s already in.”

David rolls his eyes. “That’s not hard, Stevie will go anywhere if you promise to buy the drinks.”

Alexis pouts at him for a moment before realizing she’s not getting anywhere, then immediately spins around to try her pitch on Patrick.

He hesitates immediately under her gaze, and David shoots him a death glare, because Alexis can sense weakness about these things.

“Patrick, it would be sooooo fun? Like, have you ever even seen David drunk? He gets _animated_.”

Patrick tilts his head at David, teasingly interested, and David throws down the sweater he was folding with exasperation. “Holy _fuck_ , Alexis, go find a bridge and—”

“He also gets very _singy_ ,” she teases, eyebrows wiggling as she raises her voice to drown David out.

Patrick visibly softens under her excited gaze, and right then, David knows their quiet night in is done for. “You could come over tomorrow night instead,” Patrick suggests hesitantly, shrugging as if to suggest that it’s not really a big deal, and that’s it, it’s over.

“Ohmigod, yay Patrick! Yayyyyy!” Alexis exclaims, clapping and fluttering around, and David sighs.

“You _owe_ me,” he tells her, hoping to strike the fear of god in her, but she just rolls her eyes.

“Ummm, as if, David? You owe me. Remember that buying trip to Heather’s farm?” She shoots him meaningful eyes, and his stomach plummets with guilt.

That’s the thing with Alexis. She’s surprisingly good at disguising her emotions when she wants to be. He doesn’t know if it’s because she grew up with him or if it just comes naturally to her, but sometimes she can fool him like this. Today she’d been so eager and bubbly about the possibility of a night out he hadn’t sensed anything deeper underneath, but now that he’s looking he knows there’s an ache there, like a bruise she can’t stop prodding.

“Fine,” he allows, softer now, because she probably does deserve a night out where she doesn’t have to think. She deserves more than he gives her credit for.

The bar is slightly more crowded and lively than he’s seen it in the past, and David feels a little bit of relief. Sometimes he feels weirdly protective of life in Schitt’s Creek, like Patrick will finally see or experience something that will send him running in the other direction, back to everything he knows, and could David even blame him? He couldn’t even count the number of times he’d experienced that initial reaction, though he supposes he’s grown more accustomed to it all now. Regardless, it feels strange to care what people think about this town after all the abuse he’s heaped on it over the years. But mostly, he would do just about anything to get Patrick to stay, and he doesn’t even care that the feeling is probably too intense too soon.

The night starts off with a bang as Alexis immediately implements a drinking game and buys them all shots, and then purchases a couple more for Stevie as per their deal. She’s really in her extroverted element, practically glowing, so it’s not long before a guy comes over and starts buying drinks for her. David can tell she doesn’t have any kind of serious interest in him, but is breathing a little easier just going through the familiar motions of flirtation, a welcome distraction for the moment.

By the time he returns his attention to the rest of the group, Stevie is comfortably drunk. Luckily, it’s the fun, easy, happy kind—not the blackout, catatonic way she can get around her family. She apparently started buying Patrick shots a while ago because he’d gone all flushed and fumbling after the first few. She’s insistent on seeing him drunk since none of them have, but Patrick is initially hesitant since the store is open tomorrow. Stevie is persuasive as always, managing to convince him to let his hair down just for tonight, and from there he goes with the flow. That is the point at which David stops drinking, because the night is still young and everyone else clearly has defined goals for tonight, so someone has to be the sober one.

No one seems to really notice, having too much fun to really pay attention to the fact he’s switched to club soda with lime. Alexis is laughing at a mediocre joke from that guy who works at the quarry, Stevie and Patrick have started a well-matched round of pool, and David is happy to lean up against the wall and watch quietly with amusement. He’s not sure if Patrick is naturally competitive or if it’s something that comes out when he’s drunk, but he certainly makes for a comic opponent for Stevie, who clearly thought she was going to bulldoze him easily and is humorously frustrated as a result.

She manages to win by the skin of her teeth, and then Patrick comes over to drag David into it, ignoring his protests.

“Stevie will tell you, I have like, no skills. Nada. Zero.”

“I’ll teach you,” Patrick insists. “It’s all about angles.”

So that’s how he ends up on Patrick’s team, which Stevie doesn’t object to since she warns Patrick he’s “more of a handicap than anything,” which earns her the bird from David.

Still, he can’t say he objects to being taught technique. Patrick is a long line of heat beside him for every shot, hand over David’s wrist and lips close to his ear as he directs him. Waves of relaxed, easy affection are emanating from him, and David tries not to shiver too much.

It’s almost overwhelming. He’s experienced this before, with drunk people—they have less of a filter with what they say or do, obviously, but it’s also an internal thing. Their feelings come easier, and they tend to be more authentic.

“There, yes!” Patrick exclaims after David sinks one, jumping up and with a fist in the air. He throws his arms around David and David flushes deep in response, an involuntary reaction from the contact and the resulting emotion coursing through him. Patrick pulls back slightly, looking at David and laughing gently as he reaches to thumb over the blush on David’s cheek. David’s whole body _hurts_ they’re so close, thrumming with all of it, but it’s also nice at the same time. A pleasant ache, the way a sore muscle feels after a challenging workout the day before.

He learns that Patrick is a happy drinker. After Stevie hands them their asses, they settle into a corner and talk, conversation flowing easily between funny interactions with customers at the store and slightly embarrassing stories Stevie wants to share. Patrick’s quick to laugh and easy with affection. He’s tactile, but in a lazy way: hand smoothing slow circles on David’s back, squeezing a hand on David’s knee when he gets up for refills, kicking David’s feet softly under the table when he says something self-deprecating. They’re on their way out that night when Patrick slings an arm casually around David’s waist, and it’s _more_ than the little touches they’ve shared all night, so it hits David with an intensity he wasn’t expecting, and it’s— _love_.

David nearly trips and falls flat on his face when he identifies it, but Patrick catches him. “Hey, woah,” he laughs, moving to tangle their fingers together. “You okay there?”

David clears his throat, nodding insistently. “Yeah, yeah, fine,” but he’s not, because it feels too soon and terrifying and like a punch in the gut but also—undeniably honest, right. He should be scared, he should be running in the other direction probably, but he isn’t.

Part of it is probably because it’s not an emotion Patrick’s conscious of, he can tell. It’s strong and dominant, but simmering under the surface of twelve other things: the day’s exhaustion, leftover laughter, a twinge of regret at the night coming to a close, a hum of embarrassment at having gotten more drunk than he initially intended.

The other part of it is because David knows it’s in him too, the same way, brewing under a bunch of different, more pressing feelings. But there beyond a doubt.

Even though she’s more than a little tipsy, Alexis’ hawkeyes catch his stumble immediately. “David?” she says, the question coming out high-pitched and urgent sounding, eyes going wide and worried.

“I’m fine, Alexis,” he says, trying to sound steady, though he’s sure there’s a hint of anxiety bleeding through. Patrick gives them both a quizzical look, but neither of them explain, and Alexis continues to bite her lip in worry.

They drop off Stevie first, then David walks Patrick up to his door so they can say goodnight without an audience.

“You know, we’re just trading one for the other, since Ray is definitely up against the peephole right now,” Patrick says, words running into each other slightly, his cheeks pink and grin wide as he steps closer.

“I’m not directly related to Ray, so I’m fine with it,” David replies, giving a fake little shrug and playing at nonchalance. Patrick rolls his eyes, effectively calling him on it before he leans in and kisses him, slow and full of feeling. The touch hits David harder than it might have yesterday, or even this morning, but he lets himself sink into it. He tries to feel the swirl of tangled up reactions Patrick is broadcasting as deeply and clearly as possible, and give back nothing but what he needs in return.

Safety. Acceptance. Patience. Love.

Patrick is breathless when he pulls away, looking a little bit crestfallen. He starts to say something then stops, swallowing hard and then trying again.

“Remind me why you can’t stay over tonight?”

It’s moments like this when David’s glad he can read emotions and not minds. Because he doesn’t know what Patrick was about to say instead, and he doesn’t want to. He wants to hear it from his lips when he’s completely and totally ready.

He grins. “You’re the one who promised Alexis a fun night out,” he replies, playful but also charmed at how much he can feel Patrick just _wanting_.

Patrick sighs, tangling their fingers together and giving David’s hands a squeeze. “But tomorrow?”

David nods, mouth twisting to the side as he tries to tone down his smile. “I’m all yours,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t think he’s ever meant it more.

Patrick, ridiculous human he is, claps a hand overdramatically over his heart like the statement’s bowled him over, pretending to stumble backwards, and David laughs despite the goofiness of it all. The laugh softens Patrick, turns him earnest again, shooting David a sweet and satisfied look when he opens the door

“Goodnight, David,” he says as he steps away.

David could have gone for one more kiss, if he’s being honest. But there is tomorrow. “Goodnight, Patrick.”

Alexis is alert when he returns to the car, and David wonders how much of her drunkenness was for show. “What is it?” she insists, not giving an inch when he rolls his eyes. “What was it, what did you feel?”

He gives her an uncompromising glare as they set off down the road towards home, but she’s not mollified in the least. “Was it something bad?”

“No, Alexis, it wasn’t something bad, but it also isn’t any of your business.”

“But it scared you,” she insists, and he knows she doesn’t have it, but she does shock him with how well she can read him, sometimes. “Why would Patrick scare you?”

David blinks hard, clearing his throat. He knows she’s going to keep asking until he gives in. “He—he loves me.”

Alexis gasps, utterly speechless. The reality of the situation hits David anew with her reaction, because it all feels so _crazy_ when he says it out loud like that.

“It was like, buried, under a bunch of different stuff, okay, but it was there, and I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Have you ever felt that from someone before?” she asks, voice smaller than he’s ever heard from her.

“You. Dad. Stevie.” He knows Mom loves him even though he can’t remember the last time she touched him, but he gets it, and knows Alexis does too, even if she does pop her eyes out at the mention of Stevie. “After her great-aunt died and I patted her arm, okay,” he explains, but she seems to still be waiting, so he clears his throat again, his tone a little more brutal now. “That’s the end of the list, Alexis.”

“Oh,” she says, all of a sudden, shifting in her seat, trying to smooth over the awkwardness like it didn’t happen. Alexis doesn’t have the same abilities, but they could both name plenty of people who have loved her. Mutt loved her, Ted loved her, and there were plenty of people who loved her even before they got here, saw past her flaws and flightiness and selfishness and loved her in spite of it, even if she couldn’t spare a thought for them.

And David doesn’t blame her. She’s easy to love in a way he just… isn’t.

“So what are you gonna do?” she asks, and David shrugs, impatient.

“There’s nothing to _do_ ,” he protests. “It just—it just is, I think. I just pretend I don’t know, the same way I would with anything else.”

She nods, quiet, and he can tell that she’s worried for him and protective and nervous but a little bit impressed, too, and doesn’t know what to do with all of that.

He kind of doesn’t either.

 

//

 

David goes home with Patrick as promised on Saturday night. They run into Ray walking out the door as they’re walking into it, who delightfully informs them that he’ll be away for the rest of the weekend at the regional realtor’s awards.

“Oh, it’s a _very_ big deal,” he says when neither of them appear to have heard of it. “And the politics of who wins what are always scandalous; I’m sure I’ll come back full of salacious gossip.”

Patrick nods at him, amused but trying not to show it. “Right. Well, we’ll look forward to hearing about it!”

“Thank you, Patrick,” Ray says, making his way to his car. “Enjoy your evening!”

David breathes out slow as they head inside, trying to steady himself. They’d consciously stayed away from doing anything at Patrick’s because Ray doesn’t have a really good handle on boundaries. He likes to open doors first and ask questions later. But David also doesn’t want to assume anything, because he only wants Patrick to have good experiences with him. He doesn’t want him to feel like they _have_ to fool around tonight just because they’re alone, regardless of what he may or may not be feeling inside. David can be patient, he can take things slow like a normal person.

They’d stopped at the grocery store on their way home to pick up ingredients for this spaghetti sauce Patrick had been bragging about, rambling about how it’d been in his family for generations as a well-kept secret he didn’t know if he could trust David to help him make it, and on and on. It had been pretty normal teasing all day, but the whole ongoing conversation had made them both really hungry for spaghetti, so Patrick had given in and kissed David’s cheek and made him promise to close his eyes when Patrick asked.

Ridiculous. But Patrick had been fizzling with tenderness the whole time, and it gave David butterflies in his stomach.

He hears Patrick behind him, the rustle of grocery bags as he puts things away. “I’m just warning you, I’ve eaten at some of the best Italian restaurants in New York,” he says over his shoulder as puts down his overnight bag and reaches up to checks Ray’s cabinets for pots and pans. He’s eaten Patrick’s cooking before and he has no doubt the spaghetti sauce will be just as good, but he’s enjoying annoying him about it. “Not to mention that once I was in this Italian villa, and—”

“David,” Patrick says, cutting him off as he presses himself against David’s back, a line of hot, scorching anticipation that immediately makes David shiver. “Why don’t we order a pizza tonight, actually.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and it takes a second but then he connects where this is going, immediately going slightly nervous.

“I had pizza for lunch, remember? It’s what kicked off the whole Italian food conversation,” David replies, wincing slightly even though Patrick can’t see it.

Patrick’s hands are on his hips and he presses a soft kiss to David’s shoulder through his sweater, which is sweet even if David can’t feel his touch. “Fine, Chinese then,” he suggests, and David turns around in his arms to inform him that there’s no good Chinese food in Schitt’s Creek full stop, let alone any that delivers, but before he can get the words out Patrick is kissing him.

It’s slow and thorough at first, sexy without being teasing, and David can’t help the way he groans into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick’s hands slide up toward his ribs, smoothing slow and purposeful, and all David feels from him is… passion, really. It’s a deeper sensation than lust, and it comes bundled with trust and—well, love, and David thinks maybe he should trust him back.

He’s just slightly scared, because he doesn’t know how much this will be for him. Fucking people is generally what messes with his equilibrium the most, with his abilities, and he never felt for any of them the depth of what he feels for Patrick. What if it breaks him?

“We don’t have to,” he whispers, because he wants Patrick to be sure, too. Doesn’t want him to feel like they’re rushing to check things off a list. They can take their time.

Patrick’s expression is certain though, and even if there’s a little bit of nervousness thrumming through him when he looks at David, it’s the good kind, different from what had flickered through him briefly last time. This is the butterflies in your stomach kind. “I want to, David,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I’m—I’m ready. If you want,” he adds, fumbling a little bit there at the end, now looking a little bit worried that David’s going to reject him.

But David does want this. He just knows it’s going to be hard. “I want you,” he says simply, swallowing hard, and then shaking his head to clarify. “I want what you want.”

And that’s all it takes to reassure him, and the sight of Patrick looking steadier makes David feel a little less anxious too. Patrick smiles soft and small, kissing him again, and there’s a confidence to it that makes David want to melt into his arms. “Then I’m sure,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through David’s own. “Let’s go.”

He lets Patrick lead him by the hand up to his bedroom, worrying slightly at his lower lip. David fucking him is one thing to whisper about when they’re frantically trying to get their hands on each other in the stockroom, because they both know exactly how far they can go there. But it’s another in reality, and David already knows he’s going to feel so much.

Patrick closes the door behind them as David sits on the edge of the bed. Patrick approaches him, hand on the side of his face as he kisses him, and David already wants to cry at the tenderness inside him. Patrick can tell this means a lot to him, even if he doesn’t know why. He moves slow and soft as he unbuttons his shirt, letting David push it off his shoulders and run his hands up the strong muscles of his back.

When David’s starting to feel dazed from kissing him, he scoots backward on the bed, opening his legs so Patrick can get between them. He pulls David’s sweatshirt over his head, leaving him in just a t-shirt, running a hand slowly up his arms, under the short sleeve there as he digs his nails into David’s bicep. “Fuck, I love your arms,” he groans, voice rough, and David startles at the confession.

“My _arms_?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, not even phased by the surprise in David’s voice as he kisses lushly down his neck, under his ear. “I never get to see them, you wear long-sleeve sweaters in the middle of summer.”

 _Obviously because they aren’t my best feature_ , he thinks to himself. They’re too hairy, just like the rest of him, slightly freckled, defined but not well enough. But Patrick is scratching at him like they turn him on, like he wants to get to the muscle, so David wraps his arms around him a little roughly, just to see how he’ll respond.

His breath catches immediately, going shallow in the circle of David’s hold. David can feel how turned on he is, suddenly on fire inside, like he just wants to melt into him. He hands tease at the hem of David’s t-shirt, and David lets hm pull it off so that Patrick can press their chests together, leaning into him heavily.

Patrick just keeps kissing him until David’s nearly forgotten what the plan was here. It takes him murmuring against David’s mouth, “Fuck, David, want you so much,” on a long breath before he remembers. He’s forgotten why he was nervous, definitely, because right now all he can think about is getting as close to Patrick as possible.

With his arms around him, David rolls them so that Patrick’s underneath, manhandling him slightly, and Patrick shivers happily in his arms. David can feel how much he likes it inside, too, the jolt of surprise and then the way it moves through him, electric. “Holy fuck, David,” he says, hoarse, and if he knew being pushed around the tiniest bit was going to do it for him this much, he would have been using it already. He’d been trying to be _gentle_ most of the time, to avoid spooking him off or making it feel too different from his previous experiences, but Patrick is undeniably into it.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” he murmurs against Patrick’s lips, and Patrick lets out this helpless little noise, shrugging.

It’s one of those things that’s hard to verbalize, he knows. Not to mention the fact that you sometimes don’t know how much you like something until you try it, but he can also understand why Patrick is determined not to get sidetracked into conversation. Still, he mentally bookmarks the topic for later.

David starts pulling off Patrick’s jeans, laughing quietly at his impatience when he starts whining the second David has been away too long. David presses smiling kisses right above the waistband of his boxers before resting his chin on Patrick’s stomach, looking up at him. “Do you have…?”

Patrick shivers, nodding, reaching hastily to his bedside table and rummaging around before tossing the small bottle and a condom down to David. David smiles secretly to himself, thinking of the supplies he’s kept in his overnight bag for a few weeks now, and wonders when these were purchased.

He slips Patrick’s underwear down, delighting in the sound Patrick makes as he does so. “David,” he says, breathless, and David looks up at him, taking in the desperation and want in his eyes.

“Patrick?” he replies, in a slightly teasing tone, before leaning down and taking Patrick into his mouth.

David’s slept with a lot of people, but there’s something about how responsive he is that thrills David every time. He gets a slick hand around him, working him until he’s relaxed into it, and then he’s pressing a finger against Patrick’s opening, and he gasps with surprise.

They haven’t talked about whether Patrick ever experimented with this before, but he can tell from the unguarded roll of emotions through him that it’s not a completely unfamiliar sensation. What he seems to enjoy more than anything is having another person’s—David’s—hands on him in a way he can’t predict. And David loves it too, getting to show or do things to Patrick that are new to him. He’s been keeping a mental tally of Patrick’s reactions: this made his hips jump, this made him shake, this nearly made him scream.

David works him until he’s begging for more, then pulls away to wriggle out of his jeans and underwear as Patrick slips a pillow underneath himself. David lines himself up but hesitates for a second before pushing in, suddenly worried about how overwhelming this could be.

“Hey,” Patrick says, and David looks up at his eyes. Patrick reaches for his hand and tangles their fingers together. The energy inside him is so steady, so certain, and so David nods, breathes out, and lets him in.

He can feel Patrick’s first blush of anxiety, and then a slight awkwardness, and then David is fully seated inside him and Patrick’s breathing is shallow, his hands trembling, and David doesn’t need his abilities to know that he likes it. “Fuck,” he pants.

“Okay?” David asks, slightly strained.

Patrick nods his head insistently. “Come on,” he says, voice a little hoarse, and David starts to move.

He can feel every little thrill and tremor inside Patrick, everything so close and so strong he could swear it was his own. He feels the way Patrick _sparks_ inside when David brushes against that spot inside him, the way a deep current of love runs through him when David leans down to kiss him. “I’m not,” Patrick tries, cutting himself off, overcome by sensation. “David, I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s okay,” David gasps, reaching for Patrick’s cock, but Patrick grabs his wrist.

“I wanna watch you come,” Patrick says, without so much as a hint of a blush, and more than anything _that_ makes David feel frenzied, so stupidly on edge.

“ _Fuck_ , Patrick,” he gets out, burying his face in Patrick’s neck and pumping faster now, but Patrick’s hands are on his neck and then his cheek and he’s moving David’s face so they’re close, searing eye contact between them.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, and David has to swallow hard, because the bone-deep honesty fizzling off him makes it that much harder. The depth of feeling in him is sore in David, sweet and painful in his chest, his stomach. “You’re always beautiful, David, you’re so—”

“Patrick,” David says, urgent, frantic, and he feels Patrick reach for his cock, stroking himself in time with David’s thrusts.

“You make me feel so, so fucking full David, feels so good, don’t stop—”

“Oh god, _Patrick,_ ” he manages, words tumbling out of his mouth before he comes, squeezing his eyes shut as he does. He keeps moving through the aftershocks and feels Patrick follow close behind, tumbling into it with a cry and a shock of ecstasy through his body that’s almost like a second orgasm to David, sparkling under his skin and through his blood.

He collapses on top of Patrick, pressing soft, gentle kisses to the skin he can reach before pulling out. Patrick gives this delightful little sigh, holding onto David’s hand for a beat longer than he needs to before letting David go to get a towel and clean them up. He’s reaching out for him when he returns, looking flushed and overcome and beautifully fucked. David’s stomach flip-flops at the sight.

He lets Patrick tangle them together, kissing David slow and lazy and warm and gentle, like a thank you. “Okay?” David asks when he pulls back, their noses still brushing lightly. He can feel inside Patrick that it is, but asks anyway because he wants to hear it confirmed.

“More than okay,” Patrick answers, voice rough. “I mean, I’m going to be sore in all kinds of new places tomorrow, but. This is worth it.”

David feels himself turn slightly pink, and Patrick laughs kindly at it before rolling over and reaching for his phone. “Food?” he asks, and David nods, smiling and completely unable to keep it under control as they maneuver themselves under the covers, leaning up against the headboard. He curls into Patrick’s side, knowing they’re going to have to put clothes on at some point and stop touching everywhere they can, but he doesn’t want to right now.

They order from the Chinese food place on the outskirts of town, because that’s what Patrick wants. David does voice his opinion that all Asian food in this town is subpar, but Patrick shoots him unconvinced eyes as he watches David devour his fifth crab rangoon. They eat out of the containers in bed in just their t-shirts and boxers, the spaghetti sauce relegated to tomorrow night, and David even lets Patrick hold his hand the whole time, even though it makes using chopsticks a little bit awkward.

Still, it’s worth it for the way he feels the contentment and happiness pulsing in him. He feels the undercurrent of love there too, elusive but present, and thinks maybe he’s starting to get used to it there. That it’s maybe not so crazy that someone would feel that for him after all.

 

//

 

David is very careful not to touch anyone the week after the barbeque.

He’s worried what it would do. He barely wants to see anyone, except Stevie, who is a nice change because she doesn’t broadcast her feelings out in the open when he’s in the same room with her and isn’t fond of physical contact. Even her expressions can be hard to read sometimes, so really she’s the perfect antidote to all this.

Still, it hurts not seeing Patrick. He can’t know what he’s feeling if he doesn’t see him, and short, stunted texts aren’t a substitute in any way. But he’s worried if he does see him, if he does touch him, everything will come flooding back and it will hurt too much. He can’t imagine himself holding up well under the force of Patrick’s emotions and his own, not when everything feels so fresh and Patrick had just been telling David to trust him.

But it’s like the universe won’t leave him alone. Alexis is flirting her way around on subpar dating apps and Stevie is giving him wear a fake wedding ring to get free booze, and if he takes a moment to stare stunned at the way it sits on his finger, well. Stevie doesn’t say anything, so it’s like it didn’t happen.

“I know everything about you. About your history, your family. And I’m still here,” she says later, after she’d told him Patrick isn’t the kind of guy he should be worrying about.

 _Not everything_ , he thinks desperately to himself, because he couldn’t imagine ever telling anyone this. He and his mom don’t even talk about it directly, he and Alexis _barely_ do. But he also knows despite all that, if he did tell Stevie, she would believe him. He clears his throat slightly. “I think you’re my best friend.”

She gives a small, secret smile before saying, “You think?” like he’s an idiot. And maybe he is. He’d felt _love_ in Patrick, after all, and isn’t that really the most important thing? Is he just letting everything else get in his head?

And Stevie’s here, and she’s telling him that Patrick’s wouldn’t hurt him, and that’s the kind of emotionally honest thing they don’t normally say to each other. “I can’t know for sure, because I’m realizing now I don’t think I’ve ever really had one,” he says.

Stevie pauses for a second. “Okay, if we’re being honest, I don’t think I’ve ever had one either.” She looks like the confession is giving her hives, and David is fully enjoying it.

He feels himself smile, real and genuine for what feels like the first time in days. “This would be a really sweet moment, if what we hadn’t just admitted to each other wasn’t so sad,” reaching for the joke again, but this time it isn’t a distraction. Because he knows it’s going to be okay.

 

//

 

And it is, eventually, after a couple wrong turns and a spur of the moment, truly mortifying lip sync, which he can’t even bring himself to hate like he should because he can’t get over Patrick’s _face_. Not to even mention all the truly beautiful, gorgeous emotions he’s broadcasting in David’s direction.

The love is still there. David had hoped it would be, but the fact that it’s stronger and clearer and more pronounced now, not just drifting under other feelings, is a heady thing.

The sounds of Tina Turner fade away, and David has clearly exhausted himself by the time the song’s over, lying flat on the floor trying to catch his breath. Patrick, still laughing softly, lies down next to him, their shoulders touching. David squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to lean into him and look desperate.

“When can I book you for the next open mic night?”

“Sorry,” he pants, trying not to sound too breathless. “This was a one night only performance.” He lets himself open his eyes and tips his head to the side so he can see Patrick’s face. His smile is sweet and his expression is soft.

“That’s a shame,” he teases, fondness radiating from his whole face, bursting out of his skin. “The passerby outside really seemed to enjoy it.”

David’s jaw drops, but Patrick’s face immediately breaks out into a grin. “Kidding,” he says, getting up and offering David a hand. “C’mon, let’s go to dinner.”

David takes his hand and there, he feels it—the warm, pleasant hum of forgiveness. He feels his eyes sting at the emotion, and it didn’t fully hit him how much he’d missed Patrick before now, even if it was only a week. He wants more, want to touch him all over to make up for what he wouldn’t let himself have, what he missed out on recently. He clears his throat.

“Or,” he tries, “We could order a pizza and make out in the stockroom?”

Patrick smiles, and David can feel that he’s torn, tempted even, but he shakes his head. “Consider it part of your olive branch.”

“Okay, how long are we going to be using that line?” he asks, but follows, letting Patrick tangle their fingers together as they head toward the cafe.

“I don’t know, David, remind me how many days of gifts you got?” Patrick asks, but there’s a giddiness to the teasing, and it only gets stronger as Patrick stops them in the middle of the street to take David’s face in one hand and kiss him until they’re both smiling too hard to continue.

That particular flavor of emotion surfaces again a few weeks later, after David has thrown his arms around Patrick in the middle of the store and kissed him. He tells him he loves him, and for a moment the trembling, the precious hope thrumming through Patrick’s body coloring his face. Just as David’s starting to feel vulnerable and exposed, the giddiness returns as Patrick cracks a joke about the tea David had forgotten to get, and David curses and insists on getting it even though he knows he doesn’t mean it. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling too hard and wonders a little if Patrick has an emotional thermometer for him too, if he can tell when to shift the mood to keep David from spinning out inside his head.

It happens again at the Christmas party, after an afternoon where Patrick has jumped in with both sleeves rolled up to make David’s dad happy, choosing to spend time with David’s ridiculous, dear family instead of seeing his own for the holidays. Everyone around them is full of saccharine holiday emotion to the point where David feels like he might get a cavity. So Patrick needles him about the espresso machine, his arm slung easily around David’s neck, and this time David thinks it’s not about supernatural gifts at all.

 _He knows me,_ he remembers Alexis saying when she’d broken up with Mutt, _I let him know me._

 _He sees you, for all that you are,_ his mother had said, and at the time David had hoped with everything in him that her little observation wasn’t completely accurate, but now he sees that it is. Patrick knows David starts to squirm in an earnest moment and it’s best to undercut it with a joke. He knows that he sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night because he’s having a nightmare that Alexis has been kidnapped again. He knows David sometimes cries when Patrick’s inside him—doesn’t know that it’s because David is feeling so much so intensely that his body doesn’t know how else to respond, but has held him through the aftershocks and kissed him temple softly until he could breathe again.

 _I think he changed me a bit,_ Alexis had said, and David remembers it as he encourages Patrick that going out with Ken is a good idea to try. _Why not explore that now, so we don’t have to have this conversation five years down the line,_ he says, and Patrick says,  _Oh, so you think we’re gonna be together five years from now?_ and David remembers the days when he didn’t want to think about waking up the next morning, let alone a future so far away. He thinks of former partners calling him selfish and the times they were right.

“This is a really long hug now,” Patrick says when David’s arms are wrapped around him tight. Everything inside him is so different than all of that; inside Patrick there’s gratefulness and love and understanding and he thinks David is a good person, he thinks David is _nice_ , even, and he loves him.

Alexis beams at him, emitting pure pride, and David is proud of himself too because this is who he is now. It’s not a trick or a performance to impress someone who doesn’t even deserve it; he encompasses everything Patrick sees in him and Patrick makes him want to be more, even, to become better every day in new and unexpected ways.

Yes, he does see them together five years from now, and holding Patrick, he knows he does too. They may be different people then, in a million small and important ways, but that’s life. And David’s excited for every moment of it he’ll get to face with Patrick.

“Just one more minute,” he murmurs, eyes squeezed shut, and he holds him tight and uses it to memorize every last feeling in this moment.

 

//

 

Their lives continue, filling to the brim with day-to-day concerns of two people in a serious relationship. Getting Patrick settled in his new place, managing the store, all the way down to the more nitty-gritty details like what they’re going to have for dinner on any given night. Patrick throws a housewarming party and David feels a flash of jealousy in him for the first time, he tries out for the musical and feels pride, David subs in for his baseball game and confirms that particular edge of competitiveness to him does not just come out when he’s drunk.

He spends a long time planning Patrick’s surprise party, because he deserves something nice. It had been so cute when he’d admitted he’d never had one before, blushing, leaving David shocked.

“But you had so many high school friends,” he says, unable to help the disbelief he knows is coloring his voice.

Patrick just shrugged. “What about you, didn’t you ever have one thrown for you?”

David rolls his eyes. “Ugh, yes, and bless Mandy Moore’s heart, but she had a lot going on at the time and it just wasn’t up to my standards.” Patrick had bit his lip to keep from laughing, clearly not grasping the seriousness of the matter.

But David’s not kidding about this. He wants it to be perfect, not just because his name is on it but because that’s what Patrick deserves. He works so hard and does so much for both of them, and he deserves to be celebrated by all the people that love him. Naturally, that means his parents.

David had been pretty excited to meet them, not at all nervous for once. Then his dad comes wheezing into the cafe to inform him that he’s basically just set up a wasp’s nest for himself and then walked right into it.

He asks Patrick carefully and immediately feels the shift of anxiety in him, tangled up like knots in his chest. And Patrick is so apologetic, so fragile, and David’s never really felt him like this, never felt this whirring of doubt and panic in him. He touches Patrick to try and help ground him as he stutters through the whole explanation, and David feels like such a heel to have assumed so much.

“I know my parents are good people,” Patrick stutters, trying so hard to get the right words out, voice catching in his throat. David has to pull him in, hold him close, trying to reassure him. He knows how scary it feels, and he knows how much it must be bothering Patrick not to have dealt with this already. He’s not even the kind of person who likes to let the dishes sit in the sink overnight, he can’t imagine how keeping this has been eating at him. “I’m a take charge guy, David, I like to take charge of things in my life, you know that,” he says, and David nods, trying not to show too much on his own face.

“You’re upset,” Patrick says, sounding miserable, and that makes David hurt all the more.

Patrick’s right, he is hurt, but not for himself. It’s Patrick’s own pain reflecting off him, as well as some crushing disappointment that he hadn’t sensed this before now. For God’s sakes, he could feel Patrick loved him when they’d barely started dating, but he couldn’t feel _this,_ something so important and huge Patrick was struggling with? And what was even the point of having this so-called gift if it couldn’t help him help Patrick?

Not to even mention that Patrick is sitting here beating himself up for not telling David, when David’s keeping something so huge from him. He never thought he would tell anyone about it, really, but Patrick’s _parents_ are in town, and David invited them, and he’s throwing him a surprise party. And all of a sudden he can’t—he can’t see himself being with anyone else anymore.

“I can be… just your business partner, tonight,” he offers, just wanting to do anything he can to make this easier for him.

But Patrick shakes his head. “I can’t have you do that. I owe it to us to tell them.” He pauses for a second, a tentative smile making its way onto his face, and there’s a wave of tenderness in him that comes with it that calms David’s insides slightly. “I want them to know.”

David smiles a little at that, trying to tamp it down because this isn’t about him. Still, it’s nice to hear, after so many relationships where he twisted himself into knots trying to be invisible.

“Maybe this whole thing is a blessing in disguise, huh?”

David gives a bittersweet kind of smile, feeling the swirl of guilt in his own stomach. _I don’t deserve him, how could I ever deserve him_ races around on repeat in his head, but he pulls Patrick into him and kisses his temple and his brain chills out a little bit. There’s still some worry and pain in Patrick but he holds David back, and the touch makes David feel like he’s helping out a little bit, like as long as they’re tangled together, the weight is less.

 _You have to tell him,_ he thinks to himself sternly. Patrick deserves to know.

David swallows hard in his throat and holds on.

 

//

 

Patrick’s parents are lovely, as David knew they would be, and they hold Patrick’s hands and laugh with him and tear up with him, and the love David feels emanating from Patrick all the way over from the booth is so strong that David feels himself choking up.

The rest of the night goes smoothly, even if David suspects that Stevie has started a counter-campaign to keep people from eating the crabcakes just to bother him. Patrick’s face is flushed with attention most of the night, and David is glad he did this, despite the road bumps earlier in the day. Patrick deserves all these people here for him. He’s assimilated himself into this town so flawlessly, so much easier than David ever did, and everyone clearly cares about him so much. David’s glad he gets to feel that tonight.

People filter out slowly until it’s just the two of them and Twyla cleaning up. After a while she dims the lights, flicks on the disco ball, and tells them not to worry about the rest, turning up the music. The cafe looks kind of magical, like a different place, and there’s this high fizz of excitement in David’s throat, like there’s so much happiness in his body that it’s threatening to overflow.

Patrick reaches out a hand. “Dance with me?” he asks, and David rolls his eyes because his boyfriend is such a _sap_ , but Patrick smirks at him because he knows the moment is perfect and reels him in.

He does call David out on his parents already knowing, but clearly thinks it’s more amusing than anything else, even though David does trip over himself to explain.

“It was just a very messy day, and I was trying to detangle things, and just make everything okay.”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, and the teasing lilt in him softens, turning into something softer and more genuine. He nods, steady. “Well, you made everything okay.”

He feels Patrick’s love in his fingertips and in his toes and in his rib cage, and everywhere in between. He leans in to kiss him, trying to give it back as much as he can, even though he knows that’s impossible.

“Not to step on the moment, but I do have to lock up in five,” Twyla says, apologetic, and David smiles at her, barely annoyed. It’s hard to be when Patrick pulls him close, pressing a quick kiss above his collarbone before wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug.

He can feel Patrick smiling even if he can’t see it, lips against his sweater. There’s a certainty flowing through him that David can’t quite parse, like he’s suddenly made a decision. But David doesn’t mind, and in a way, he feels it too, satisfied with the way it surges into his heart and settles there, permanent.

 

//

 

They’re sitting on their bed a few days later when David works up the courage and tells him.

He’d tried to explain it all as clearly as possible, tipping his eyes up at the ceiling as he worked through some of the hard parts. Patrick had sat very still, face mostly blank as David spoke, only looking slightly pained when David talked about his life in New York and the way he’d felt himself shaking apart when they first got here. Patrick is already in his pajamas because they’d been getting ready for bed when David first started this, and for some reason all he can fixate on is Patrick’s soft t-shirt as he talks, stares at it hard when he finishes.

There’s a long silence and David feels like he might cry. He can’t look Patrick in the eye, because obviously he sounds like a freak and why would Patrick believe him, why did he think this was a good idea?

“So… any time you touched me, since we met,” Patrick says, face tight with concentration, like he wants to get this right, “you knew what I was feeling?”

David nods, quick, and swallows hard. “I don’t have any control over it,” he says, choked up. “I know it’s embarrassing, and trust me, it can be extremely inconvenient and hurtful and I wouldn’t choose it,” he confesses, all in a rush.

Patrick shakes his head tightly, as if to say that’s not what he means. “So, you knew how I felt about you before we were…?” he trails off, looking slightly confused.

“I knew… that you liked me,” David says, squirming slightly, not meeting his eyes. “I knew you were happy around me, almost always, but I thought you were just… a pretty happy person, most of the time?” he tries, and it’s true, because he had been so confused and so sure that there was no way Patrick could want him the way he wanted Patrick. “Most of the time you just felt… warm. Fond.”

Patrick’s face breaks out into a grin, and now it’s David’s turn to be confused. “David. I spent weeks crushing on you like a lovestruck middle schooler and you got… fond?”

David’s mouth falls open slightly, and he’s kind of speechless, because this is not the way he expected this to go. “Maybe your abilities aren’t as finely tuned as you thought,” Patrick suggests, teasing, and David flushes.

“Okay, shut up,” David says, smile starting to fight its way onto his face despite himself.

“And you’ve had this your whole life? Honestly, I feel slightly embarrassed for you,” Patrick says, and David doesn’t know what to do with himself, he’s so fucking happy.

“ _You_ ,” David says, scooching forward so their knees are touching and he can poke Patrick in the chest, “are the one who should feel embarrassed. The first time I shook your hand? I felt fucking _fireworks_. I’ve never felt fireworks before. With _anyone_.”

Patrick does color at this, but he’s grinning too hard for it to make him look at all flustered. He narrows his eyes slightly. “Are you saying I’m the best you ever had?” he asks jokingly, and David rolls his eyes, pushes at him lightly. Patrick laughs, catching David’s hand when he tries to move away, and then David’s breath catches as Patrick slowly twines their fingers together. Because Patrick’s face has gone soft and serious and now he’s _using_ this, which is just not at all allowed.

“Can you feel it?” he murmurs, and David nods, clearing his throat hurriedly. He does, he feels Patrick’s love for him, deep and steady, and his understanding that this was hard for David and more than anything, how profoundly touched he is that David trusted him with this, coursing through him like a river.

He lifts David’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “What about this?” he asks, and David nods again, eyes stinging as he feels Patrick’s protectiveness, the hurt he feels at the pain this has caused David, big or small, over the years. He tugs David forward to kiss him, slow and sweet, and David has to put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders to steady himself. “And this,” Patrick says, murmuring against his lips when he takes a breath, and it’s more of a statement than a question this time, but yes, David feels it. He feels how Patrick wants to touch him everywhere, make him feel so good he’ll forget why this was ever difficult.

He kisses David again, hungry, over and over again as he strips David of his clothing and then his own. He presses David into the pillows, hands hot and insistent as he sucks a hickey into the spot he loves behind David’s ear. David is gasping and shaking already, because it’s already so different like this, when Patrick knows. He knows and he’s choosing what David feels and at what moment, and it’s an entirely new sensation for him.

“Patrick,” he gasps, sound coming out broken and desperate, but that’s exactly how he feels. “Patrick, _fuck_.”

“I want it to be good for you,” Patrick says back, his voice low and thick with need. “I want to make this—”

“You _are_ ,” David insists, slightly surprised by how emotional he sounds already. “It’s never, it’s never been like this—” but Patrick cuts him off with his mouth, kissing him deep and David groans into it, happy to be distracted by how much he wants Patrick, happy not to have to think for a minute.

Patrick works him open with slow, slick fingers until David is begging for him, and when he pushes into him in one long, sure stroke David nearly loses it right there. He feels all lit up inside, emotion buzzing at his fingertips and curling hot in his stomach, and when Patrick starts to move it intensifies. He can feel every breath and shift in Patrick, the way he loves David with everything he has and, ridiculously, still doesn’t feel like it’s _enough_ , that he deserves more, and it’s all David can do to wrap his legs around Patrick’s waist and dig his nails into his back and hold on.

It’s the most incredible thing, what Patrick feels for him. It’s beautiful and absolute, _because_ it’s absolute, and David has never been loved like this. He’s never _loved_ like this.

He feels tears leaking from the corners of his eyes without having any control over it, vaguely hears the way he’s sobbing Patrick’s name, overwhelmed and overcome. Patrick is pressing kisses to his skin anywhere he can reach, panting and close, murmuring how much he loves him like a litany. It’s all running through David like a current, and the second Patrick touches him he comes, unable to keep it together any longer.

“David,” Patrick breathes, and David opens his eyes, sees in Patrick’s face that he needs him.

“I can feel you, Patrick,” he says, voice breaking on his name, and Patrick’s face is caught somewhere between emotional and delicate. “I can feel you everywhere, come on, Patrick, please,” he begs, reaching up to brush his thumb over the gorgeous ridge of Patrick’s cheekbone, and Patrick swears and does.

They stay tangled together for longer than they normally would, both of them catching their breath. Their skin cools down together and David feels like they’re one molten, fierce thing. Like they were meant to be together this way: David’s relief fused into Patrick’s revelation to the point where he can’t tell where his emotions end and Patrick’s begin.

Patrick eventually manages to disconnect himself, padding to the bathroom to get a washcloth and clean them both up while David tries to put himself back together, taking deep, grounding breaths. He feels so empty now, but the breathing comes easier when Patrick is lies down next to him again, his head propped up on his hand, a long line of heat touching David’s body all the way down to his toes.

“Okay?” he murmurs, and David nods, fumbling for Patrick’s free hand, which he gives him.

“It’s part of it,” he explains, sniffling a little as he finally opens his eyes, gesturing flippantly to his tear-stained face. “The shaking, the crying, it’s all—I feel everything really intensely, when I’m with someone like that.”

“But it’s good?” Patrick asks, hesitant with a slight edge of worry, and a smile slides onto David’s features before he has a chance to think about it.

“Yes,” he breathes. He feels himself go tingly all over as Patrick smiles too, so soft and pure. “The best.”

They slide under the covers after a bit, so much more relaxed now, and David settles into his space under Patrick’s arm comfortably. “You know, you really took that much easier than I expected,” he admits, feeling safe to admit his earlier worries now that the heaviest emotional revelations of the evening are over.

Patrick smiles, turning to face him, looking slightly mischievous but also pleased. “Yeah?”

David nods.

Patrick shrugs nonchalantly, like it’s not a big deal, and his face has that look where David knows he’s about to make a joke, but one that is, in its purest form, true.

“I guess I always thought you must be a little bit magic,” he says, treating David to an easy, simple smile before reaching to turn out the light.

David cuddles impossibly closer, smiling shocked and stupid in the dark, thrilling at every wave of shimmering, clear affection he can feel rolling through them both.

 

//

 

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” David asks.

So far he’s not into hiking at all. He doesn’t mind an evening stroll now and then, but this is different. This is a whole _thing_ —they had to get up early to drive down to the trail, and Patrick acted like they were on some kind of timeline so David hasn’t even had his coffee. Patrick had promised (well, bribed, maybe) they would get donuts later and god, David’s going to deserve them so much.

“I told you,” Patrick says, smiling patiently. “I just thought it’d be nice to have a different date than usual.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, but it’s not adding up for David.

“But we went to that wine and paint night just last week,” he suggests. “ _That_ was something new and different and it involved _wine_.”

Patrick looks at him skeptically. “I don’t think it counts as a date if we were doing it as a favor to Twyla, who was testing it as an event for the cafe.”

“Tell that to the tipsy sex we had afterwards,” David mutters, and Patrick flushes, a laugh bubbling out of him despite himself. David smirks, trying to hide it slightly, but he knows it’s no secret that he loves making Patrick break.

“It’s just walking, David,” he insists.

“It’s _intentionally difficult_ walking!” David bites back, flailing a little bit as he nearly trips over a tree root, but Patrick catches his hand and straightens him before he falls flat on his face.

And there it is. The undercurrent fizzing under the amusement and casual demeanor Patrick’s been broadcasting. _Nerves_ , strong and churning beneath, and David doesn’t have an any idea why they would be there.

Patrick lets go of his hand as quickly as he can without being suspicious, like he doesn’t want David to know, which is weird. It’s so weird and out of nowhere that David doesn’t even have any guesses as to why he might be nervous. They’ve been doing so well lately, overcome so much, he can’t think it has anything to do with them. Maybe he has some other bad news: maybe he has a sick family member or maybe something’s happening with the store, or—

“Don’t worry, your feet are going to be on solid ground the whole time,” Patrick assures him. “I remember the Anderson Cooper story.” He smiles, relaxed and normal, and David breathes out, trying to reassure himself that maybe Patrick was just nervous David might roll his ankle or something.

Hiking actually isn’t as bad as he thought. They see quite a few cute dogs, which brightens things, and Patrick must still be sleepy even though he was the one rushing them out the door, because he’s quieter than usual and is content to listen to David ramble about his ideas for the store’s fall evening series without much interjection.

They get to the top eventually, and Patrick lets out a long breath.

“Wow,” David breathes as he steps forward, because he does have to admit, it’s stunningly beautiful. The morning light is hitting everything just right so everything is tinged with gold, and the view is lush and green, but there’s a straightforwardness to it. David has seen more tourist destinations than he can count: the flashy ones, the overcrowded ones, the pretentious ones, but something about this simple mountain view weasels its way into his heart as the easy favorite.

It’s beauty you have to work for, that isn’t obvious to everyone, that you have to earn. It’s a perfect parallel to Schitt’s Creek, in that way.

“Okay, you win, it’s—” David starts, turning around, fully prepared to admit that Patrick was right, but Patrick is down on one knee and he is holding a ring.

“David,” he says, and he is such a sap, his voice is already rough and his eyes are wet. David feels himself choke up as well as he presses both hands over his mouth, trying to keep everything inside. “David, we’ve been through so much together, and I can’t thank you enough for how great you’ve made my life by being apart of it. I don’t want to have to ever go back to a life without you.” His voice is shaking, his hands are shaking, and David feels himself crying too, now.

“I love you so much,” Patrick continues with a watery laugh. “I love your kindness, and your sense of humor, and the fact that you’d go on a morning hike with me even though it’s the complete opposite of your comfort zone.”

David laughs a little too, wiping hurriedly at his eyes.

“Will you marry me?” Patrick asks, his face so soft and sweet, and David can’t nod fast enough.

“Yes.”

Then Patrick is up on his feet, kissing him, and it’s messy and they’re both still crying a little bit but David’s never felt like this. He feels like a pure, beaming light of happiness, and he can feel it in Patrick, too. He’s never felt so strongly in tune with someone else’s emotions, and he holds on tight when Patrick pulls away to look at him, so fucking fond.

“Thank you,” David murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Patrick whispers back, kissing him again.

They hold each other for a long moment before untangling themselves to face the vista ahead of them, and if it hadn’t already been David’s favorite thing he’d ever seen, it would be now. Still, he refuses to let go of Patrick’s hand, holding on tight because he doesn’t want to stop touching him right now, can’t get enough of the pure excitement and love flowing through him.

“It really is beautiful,” Patrick says, because he hadn’t really gotten a chance to look at it before, and David nods in agreement.

“It’s perfect,” he says, and he doesn’t just mean the view.

Patrick looks at him, hopeful and sweet, getting it immediately. “Yeah?”

David nods quickly, wiping at his eyes again as he tries to keep himself from smiling too hard. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Patrick lifts their hands and kisses David’s knuckles softly, eyes bright, and David can see the ring glinting there in the morning sun. His stomach flip-flops blissfully at the sight as Patrick lets out a exhausted, shaky, happy sigh. “Should we head back down for donuts?” he asks, and David loves him so much he can’t even speak for a second.

“And coffee,” he corrects, stepping close to bump lightly into Patrick’s shoulder as they head back towards the trail.

He feels the wave of laughter run through Patrick before he actually laughs, and thinks that he can’t wait to have this for the rest of his life. To feel Patrick’s emotions, to make him laugh, to be a part of all the big and little and in-between moments in his life.

“And coffee,” Patrick agrees, drawing him in for a quick, comfortable kiss. He doesn’t have to say the words he’s holding inside, because he knows that David can feel them anyway.

“I love you too,” David murmurs, quiet and close, and hand in hand, they head for home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. As always, feel free to yell at me over on Twitter at [wardowedidit](https://twitter.com/wardowedidit).


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